TOILET WINE

 By Psychic, Madam, Misty, Murky Merkel

Part-time Temporary Associate Contributor

Humor News Nuts Online Publications

As many of you know, I have certain tools I use to enhance my psychic powers, so I can more accurately explore and predict the future.  Cards, Ouija Boards and the game "Twister", are all tools in every good psychic's toolbox.  The main items that make my predictions the best in the business, are my crystal balls, my Petoskey stones, and a special wine they sell down at the gas station, called "Thunderbird". 

The stones and balls last forever, but everyday I have to go down to the gas station, combination liquor store, and pick up two bottles of wine. Wine, of course, is expensive so in order to afford my tools of the trade, I sell my services to the morning manager, Maria.  Maria is the only employee in the store each morning, and she has a lot of work to do, besides wait on customers.  

For the last couple of years, Maria has employed me to sweep and mop the floors each morning for two bottles of wine.  Well, yesterday she told me she could only give me one bottle of wine for my services, because the price of wine had doubled.  I told her I needed two bottles each day, or I'd be done giving predictions by noon.  

Maria is a good girl, and she suggested I could get an extra bottle of wine each day if I would clean the bathroom in the morning.  I agreed.  I had no choice.  So yesterday, after I swept and moped the floor, I started cleaning the bathroom.

The bathroom was a complete disaster.  There was water, turds, poop and toilet paper all over the floor, in the sink, and even up on the light fixture.  Of course the toilet was overflowing.  You would think that when someone sees an overflowing toilet, they wouldn't try flushing it when they know it's just going to run all over.  But they must have  flushed and flushed that backed-up  toilet a million times.  What a mess to clean up.

Finally, I had most of the mess cleaned up, but I had to reach down into the toilet and pull out whatever it was that had backed-up all that nastiness. I did not have any plastic gloves, so I had to use my bare hands.  I figured I could wash my hands off  later, and besides I've stuck my hands into much worse places, and all I ever got was a case of mange.  

I sort of held my breath as I stuck my hand into the toilet.  I grabbed onto something thick and long, that was stuck tight in the toilet exit hole.  I had to yank on it with both hands, and finally it came up.  It was someone's arm.  That was different, I thought.

It was almost as bad as when my ex made me a homemade burrito and I spit out a big yellow toenail from someone's big toe.  I checked.  It wasn't mine.  Then I remembered my ex was clipping his toenails earlier that day.

I wasn't sure what to do with the arm.  I could have thrown it in the trash, but I realized it was kind of an important thing to find, and that someone might be missing it.  So I washed the arm up as best that I could and dried it under the hand dryer.  I left the hand under the dryer a bit too long and it started to smell like it was cooking.  

Then I stuck the arm in the lost and found tote, located on a shelf, underneath the cash register.  The arm didn't quite fit, so I really had to shove.  I think I broke the wrist.  Anyway, the arm is there if the guy comes back for it. I figure it was a guys arm because of the big muscles and thick arm bones.

Finally, I picked up my wine and started back to my trailer.  I didn't get hardly 20 feet out the door when I heard this horrible scream from Maria. I figured she saw another rat run across the floor.  She always screams when she sees one.  I didn't bother going back because I had my wine, and I was on a mission to get home.

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MADAM MISTY TAKES A SPIN WITH JIMMY THIRTY-FIVE TOES

Psychic Madam Misty Murky Merkel

The Northern Michigan Trailer Park Psychic 

Part-time Associate Contributing Writer

Humor News Nuts Online Publications

 I was just sitting in my trailer during a severe winter storm, when suddenly there was a knocking on my door.  Hard to think of anyone being out in this weather, but I opened the door, and there stood Jimmy Thirty-five toes, looking up at me with forlorn big blue eyes.  He was almost crying and couldn't quite get out a word.

Jimmy Thirty-five toes is usually, cheerful with a wide smile that showed off the few teeth he still had left in his jaw bones.  Jimmy Thirty-five toes was happy and very rich.  He became rich using his celebrity of having a total of thirty-five toes.  There was an entire summer festival in Northern Michigan built around Jimmy Thirty-five toes, including a parade where Jimmy was of course, always the grand marshal and rode on the front float.  

Not only was Jimmy Thirty-five Toes rich and famous, but much of the areas economy was built upon the annual festival with carnival rides, vendors, beer tent and polka dance, all boosting the local incomes.

Anyway, Jimmy was pounding on my door at night, during the worst winter storm to hit the region in thirty-five years. "What's the problem, Jimmy?", I asked.

" It's terrible Madam Misty.  I was out cutting wood for my woodstove all day today.  I'm going to have a party tomorrow, you're invited, by the way.  As I was saying, I'm cutting wood for my party, my party celebrating my turning thirty-five, when I noticed some of my toes had gone numb. Now I'm feeling dread.  Maybe they got froze.  And, if they were froze they'll have to be cut off, then Jimmy Thirty-five toes would be no more."

"But, you would still have some toes.  Many more little bulges than the average man."

"Yeah, but no one will want to see Jimmy Twenty Seven Toes, or Jimmy nine-teen Toes.  Not after all these decades of celebrating the man with thirty-five toes. My parade will be gone.  My only source of income will be gone, and everyone around here will hate me, because their money will be gone, and they won't be able to feed their kids."

"So, what do we do?" I asked.

"I'm thinking we need to get to the emergency room pronto, so that maybe they can still save my toes", said Jimmy.

I responded, " sounds great, but I don't have a vehicle or a driver's licence."

"That's ok Madam Misty," replied Jimmy, "I don't have a licence either, but I do have a four-wheel drive pickup that should get us there, even tonight.  I just need you to ride along as my navigator, so I don't hit something, or take a wrong turn when we drive through a white-out".

" Ok, lets go," I said.

Soon we were barreling town the nearest highway, heading to Mancelona Memorial Hospital.  Their motto is "We Will Treat Your Loved Ones, And Turn Them Into Memories".  

So far, I was proud of Jimmy's driving.  He was clearly worked up over the prospect of losing some toes, but he kept his head cool, watching the icy road, and not traveling more than 35 MPH.  Finally, Jimmy whipped into the emergency entrance area of the hospital, and several.people came running out to see what was happening.  Jimmy was soon inside the hospital, and taken to an operating room, where unfortunately, they had to remove 10 of Jimmy's toes.  Luckily, they were small toes, and the hospital had some prosthetic ones lying in a drawer.  Within an hour of Jimmy losing his original toes, he had replacement toes screwed into place. 

I promised Jimmy that his replacement toes would be our secret, so that Jimmy could continue his Northern Michigan celebrity status.

As a momentum of our friendship, Jimmy had his dead toes mounted on a bracelet, and he gave that bracelet to me.  I thanked Jimmy for the wonderful gift, and promised him that I would wear his toes everywhere I go.